Changeling Illusion (Thirteen Realms Book 3) Page 5

  Turning, I saw behind me a familiar town clustered around the shores of a lake that gleamed blue under the open sky. That sky sported several winged shapes, which dipped and climbed playfully in the air currents above the lake. Occasionally, the rainbow skin of one of them caught the sunlight just right and flashed like a winged jewel.

  This was Squeak’s home, the island of Arlo, which had started life as a regular island in the river Ivon, part of the realm of Illusion. For the last twenty years, it and all the people who called it home had been fugitives. Raised from the river by the power of Air magic on the terrible Night of Swords, it had fled the slaughter.

  Ever since, the island and its inhabitants, the last survivors of the once grand Realm of Illusion, had been hiding from Summer’s wrath. They flitted from Realm to Realm, seeking out the uninhabited spaces, the lonely endless miles of Ocean, the hidden forests—anywhere that they could stay hidden. For some time now, Arlo had been making its home in the depths of the Realm of Night, aided and abetted by Raven, third son of the Lord of Night and my sometime friend.

  We turned our backs on the castle and headed for the little town. Squeak was here somewhere. Last time I’d seen him, he’d been in the lake, unconscious and having his burned skin soaked. I didn’t know where he was now, but Morwenna’s house seemed like a good place to start looking, since she was the healer in charge of his recovery.

  A couple of men nodded at us as we entered the streets of the little town, but mostly, the place was quiet. It was early morning, no more than about eight o’clock. Most fae would still be up, but perhaps thinking of their beds already. I’d only been here a couple of times, so I wasn’t sure which house was Morwenna’s, but Kyrrim had obviously paid more attention on our last visit. He stopped outside a cheerful-looking house with bright yellow flowers nodding in the window boxes and rapped on the door.

  Quick footsteps approached, and then the door was flung open. Morwenna’s daughter, Lirra, stood there.

  “Oh.” She seemed disappointed; clearly, she’d been expecting someone else. “Hello. I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow. Squeak is still unconscious.”

  “We’re here to speak with your parents. Are they home?”

  Morwenna and her husband, Tirgen, were the de facto leaders of Arlo. There had once been a noble family living in the castle on the hill, but they had been at a gathering on the main island the night Summer attacked, and had died with the rest of Illusion’s people. Now the townspeople governed themselves.

  For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder what the king would think of this arrangement. The fae Realms were not a democracy. Most likely, he’d find some second or third son of a Lord and appoint him the new Lord of Illusion. Raven might even get the job, since he had already taken up the cause of the Illusionists. I smiled a little at the thought. Raven would probably be horrified.

  “Yes,” Lirra said. “Um, come in.”

  She seemed a little uncertain as she held the door open wider. Kyrrim gestured for me to precede him, so I entered and followed Lirra into a dining room where Morwenna and Tirgen were eating. The table was set for three; Lirra’s meal had been abandoned at the knock on the door.

  Morwenna hurriedly wiped her mouth on a napkin and stood. “Sir Knight—welcome to my home. You have caught us in the middle of dinner, but there is plenty if you would like to join us.”

  Kyrrim glanced at me, but I shrugged. It might be dinner time for them, but it was barely breakfast time for me and, after the events of the night, I wasn’t that hungry anyway. Nor had it escaped me that Morwenna hadn’t greeted me at all. My heart sank a little. Why was she being so difficult? Was this still because I’d managed to get Squeak hurt? Or had something happened to him, and she didn’t want to tell me? A pit of anxiety opened in my stomach at the thought.

  “No, thank you,” Kyrrim said. “We’re on a diurnal schedule at the moment. But, please, don’t let us interrupt you.”

  Morwenna waved him to a seat and we all sat down, apart from Lirra, who still hovered in the doorway. Her mother still hadn’t even acknowledged my existence.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. “How is Squeak?”

  Finally, she met my gaze, and hers burned with fury. “Not good.”

  A woman who didn’t beat around the bush. Why was I not surprised? “But he’ll live?”

  She sighed, a short, exasperated sound. “Most likely, though what sort of life it will be, I don’t know. Drakes need to fly.”

  Most likely? What did that mean? My hands began to shake, so I shoved them under my legs, crushing them against the chair. “You think he won’t fly again?”

  I was quite proud of how calm I sounded, though my heart quailed. Poor Squeak didn’t deserve what had happened to him—all he’d been doing was trying to protect me.

  Another knock on the front door interrupted us, and Lirra flew down the hallway again. “It’s Durran!” she called. “See you later.”

  Probably a boyfriend, judging by her enthusiasm. I glanced at Kyrrim, so solid and dependable at my side, glad that he was here. He reached out and laid a comforting hand on my thigh.

  “I very much doubt it,” Morwenna replied. “I’m a healer, not a miracle worker. Those holes in his left wing—they’re just too big. There’s nothing there to work with.”

  She sounded angry—with herself or me? Probably me. She hadn’t seemed to like me from the start, and Squeak’s injury had only made it worse.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “But that won’t kill him, surely?”

  “Some drakes lose their will to live when they lose the power of flight.”

  “I see.” My mouth was dry, and I chewed uneasily at my bottom lip. Surely, that wouldn’t happen to my happy little Squeak? “Can I see him?”

  “Tomorrow night. He’ll be waking up then, so you should be here anyway. He’ll be scared and in pain, and he’ll need his bondmate.”

  “About tonight,” Kyrrim said. “The king has asked for a meeting with you.”

  “So soon?” She glanced at Tirgen in horror.

  “It’s what we wanted,” her husband reminded her.

  “Yes, but … we aren’t ready to host the king—and the little drake requires so much of my attention.” She turned the full force of her glare on Kyrrim. “It’s very short notice.”

  “His Majesty is not expecting a gala reception,” Kyrrim said, unquailing beneath the force of that glare. I guess he’d been glared at by plenty of people before. He hadn’t exactly been Mister Popularity around Whitehaven during the years that the king was lost. “All he wants is a simple meeting with the leaders of your people here, to discuss our next steps in restoring Illusion to its rightful place.”

  Morwenna’s gaze slid as if unwillingly to my face before she turned to Tirgen and began rattling off instructions: who needed to be informed, where they should host the meeting, even the specific tea set that ought to be used. He nodded at every point, taking it all in his stride.

  Eventually, he held up his hands to stop the flow of words. “I’d better go and talk to Grindel at the castle before he turns in for the day.”

  Morwenna rose, too, her scowl as black as ever. “None of us will be getting any sleep today. We have a lot of work to do.”

  “Perhaps we can help you,” I said, getting up, too. Not that I wanted to spend time with my aunt in her current mood, but she was looking at me as if this was all my fault, and I had to admit it stung. What did it take to please this woman? She’d wanted a meeting with the king, and we’d got her one, and now she was furious about it. “You could tell me more about our family while we work.” And being busy would stop me obsessing about Squeak.

  “Girl, you’re no family of mine.”

  She held my gaze defiantly as I stared, shocked at her rejection.

  Then I turned on my heel and strode from the house.

  6

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Kyrrim said before he left to go back to Whitehaven. He hel
d my hands and stared into my eyes as if he could command my thoughts with sheer willpower. “She’s upset and she’s taking it out on you. She’ll come around.”

  “Will she?” I wasn’t so sure. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  He drew me gently into his arms. “How else will the king get here?”

  No doubt Rothbold had plenty of people who could magic him up a gate for easy travel. Kyrrim didn’t need to point out that the king couldn’t trust any of them the way he could trust his Hawk. Or that this meeting was supposed to be secret. Or even that he was a Knight of the Realms, with all the duties that entailed, and couldn’t spend all his time holding his girlfriend’s hand just because she was facing a new and hostile family.

  Nor should I need handholding. I sighed and leaned in for a kiss, then gently disengaged myself. I was a big girl. I could handle Morwenna.

  “I know, I know. It’s just—now my mother’s gone, I don’t have any family except for these people. It’s like when you start a new job, you know? You want to make a good first impression on the boss.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at me. We stood in the small, private sitting room of the suite that had been assigned to me for the duration of my stay, by the window that overlooked the road down to the village. The sunlight hit his dark hair, bringing out its chestnut highlights and lighting his tawny eyes so that they seemed to glow with an inner fire. He was impossibly beautiful, but the expression on his face was completely bemused.

  “Oh.” Belatedly, it registered on me that he’d been in the king’s service for the Lady alone knew how many years. Centuries, probably. “Well, maybe you don’t know how that feels.”

  “Morwenna is not your boss,” he pointed out, still with that adorably confused look that made me want to kiss him. Not that that was saying much. Most things made me want to kiss him.

  “I know. But I was hoping to be welcomed to the family with open arms, and clearly, that isn’t going to happen. I wanted her to love me, but she doesn’t even like me.”

  “I like you,” he said, moving closer again. “More than like you, in fact.”

  I smiled up at him, feeling that familiar melting sensation. When he was in the room, it was hard for me to look at anyone else. “I’m reasonably fond of you, too.”

  He snorted, then leaned in to steal a kiss that lasted long enough to leave me feeling dizzy. “Reasonably fond? How very exuberant of you.”

  “Well, okay, then,” I said, as if I was doing him a great favour, though I twined my arms around his neck. “I’m definitely fond of you.”

  He tried to feign offence, but his lip twitched. “At least my ego won’t get out of control with you around.” He jerked my hips against his. “Just my libido.”

  A thrill shot through me as I felt the evidence of his arousal grind against me. I glanced behind me at the closed bedroom door, wishing we were back in his house in the mortal world, cooking breakfast together without a care in the world. And burning the bacon.

  He groaned, following the direction of my glance, and rested his forehead against mine. “Do we have time for—?”

  I sighed. “You know we don’t. You should be back in Whitehaven by now.” Suddenly fierce, I muttered into his chest, “I wish the world would just go away and leave us alone. We rescued the king—if this was a fairy tale, we’d be enjoying our happy ever after by now.”

  “Allegra.” He tipped my head up with a finger under my chin, his gaze serious. “You are my happy ever after. My duty to the king might take me away more than I would like, but I will always return. The king needs me—but I need you.”

  He kissed me, warm and tender, and I felt something blossom in my heart. I’d been here before, in the first rosy stages of falling in love, but never with someone like Kyrrim. He made my last boyfriend look like a child. He had a gravity and maturity to him that made me feel safe, even in this unsafest of worlds. And unlike that last boyfriend, I felt sure he would always be there for me when I needed him.

  “I need you, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling with all the emotion that threatened to burst from me. How was it that he always seemed to know exactly the right thing to say—the thing I most needed to hear in that moment? Perhaps it was a skill that came with age, or maybe it was just him. He was a complicated man, and I knew how lucky I was to be the woman he was staring down at like that. Men like this didn’t come along every day.

  He smiled ruefully, and released me with obvious reluctance, dropping one last kiss on my lips. “Good. But you are right—I should be at Whitehaven. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “See you,” I said, watching until the door closed behind him. He could have gated straight out of this room, but perhaps he needed to speak to Morwenna or one of the others before he left. There was a lot to arrange before nightfall.

  I sighed again. Thinking of Morwenna made me feel miserable again. What was her problem? Anyone would think she’d be happy to have a niece turn up out of the blue.

  I gazed longingly at the closed door that led to the bedroom. I’d already checked it out. The large bed was piled with pillows and looked super comfy. I was running on very little sleep, and the thought of throwing myself onto the soft mattress and sleeping away the rest of the day was very tempting. It might even be a good idea to get some shut-eye before the king arrived, or I’d be useless from exhaustion.

  But I knew that thoughts of Morwenna and my misery about her attitude would keep me awake. And I could just imagine her scathing response if she found out I’d been snoozing while everyone else ran themselves ragged getting everything ready for the big meeting. This was a huge event for the people of Arlo, and they were determined that everything should go smoothly.

  Straightening my shoulders, I opened the door that Kyrrim had just gone through and went looking for something to do.

  I found Grindel at last in the castle kitchens, deep in conversation with a man whose hot, flushed face suggested he was the castle cook. A bank of ovens along one wall were all in use and the temperature in the room was significantly higher than outside. Had they changed their minds and decided to put on a meal for the king? I thought we’d agreed on light refreshments.

  “Hi,” I said, awkwardly. Grindel was the only face I recognised among the people hard at work and the ones I’d passed on my way here. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  He drew in a startled breath, and the cook looked positively horrified. Had they heard about my cooking prowess—or lack thereof—even here? “Of course not!”

  “I don’t have to cook or anything. I could just dust things or help wash up or something.”

  The cook made an instinctive gesture, as if shooing me away, and Grindel shook his head vehemently.

  “No, no, no, my lady. You’re a guest here. Please relax and enjoy your day. We can handle everything. Is there something I can get you?”

  “No, thanks.” Now it was my turn to feel horrified. The last thing I wanted to do was create more work for them. “I’m fine. You’ve been very … um … welcoming. I might just go for a walk.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the kitchen, and I slipped back into the hall, feeling vaguely guilty. Well, I’d tried. Perhaps I could help down in the town. That would certainly be a good place to get some information about Morwenna, at least.

  It was a beautiful day outside, and I felt my spirits lift just from being out in the sunshine. My feet took me to Morwenna’s house, since that was the only place in town I knew, and I knocked on the door, hoping they weren’t all busy with other things.

  There was such a long delay that I had decided no one was home and was turning away when Tirgen opened the door.

  “Hello,” he said, obviously surprised to see me again so soon.

  “Hi. Is Morwenna home?”

  “No. I thought she was up at the castle.”

  “Oh. Well, actually, I don’t really want to see her at the moment.”

  Something softened in his express
ion of polite interest.

  “Could I come in?”

  He held the door open and stepped back. “Of course. Be welcome in my house.”

  I followed him in. He led me not to the dining room that I’d seen last time, but through the house and out to a building separated from the main house by a small courtyard bursting with greenery. Inside was cool and dim. It wasn’t very big, but there was room for two beds made up with crisp white linen and a set of cupboards that stretched the length of one wall. A workbench stood under one window.

  It was a long moment before I realised that one of the beds was occupied, though not by a person. The small figure looked lost in the expanse of snowy white sheet.

  “Squeak!” I gasped, and all but sprinted across the room to his side.

  He was swathed in bandages all around his chest and, much more awkwardly, across his left wing. The other had some kind of unguent smeared all over it, but looked remarkably healthy—far better than when I’d last seen him. Clearly, Morwenna had worked miracles already, whatever she said about her lack of skill with wings. He was asleep or unconscious, and didn’t stir at the sound of my voice, nor was there any response when I pushed my mind towards his. Just a black, empty hole where our connection had been.

  I turned to Tirgen. “But why is he lying in a bed?”

  Tirgen smiled. “Morwenna set this place up as a centre of healing, though she didn’t expect any of her patients to be drakes. But it’s quiet and convenient, so why not? The bed keeps him comfortable and is high enough that she’s not hurting her back bending over him.”

  Fair enough. I could just imagine Morwenna’s snippy voice saying something like that. She seemed like my mother, in that practical concerns overrode all others. So far, that was the only family resemblance I’d seen.

  I laid a tentative hand on Squeak’s neck, behind his head, where the skin was undamaged. “And he’ll wake up tomorrow?”